The Fall of a Hero
by goldfreckl
Summary: Solana Al-Fasi, champion of Skyrim, accomplished war hero, thane and respected noble... a murderer, thief, and manipulator. The higher you climb, the harder you fall. Follow the beloved Dragonborn as she overcomes a troubled past and earns a respected status throughout Skyrim, to be exposed to who she really is, who must now pay for her choices.
1. Chapter 1

_So this is my first time writing a fan fiction since I was 14 (maybe?)... I don't consider myself a writer, but I love creating characters and backstories for them. Please enjoy following my Dragonborn's story, along with one shots of other character's perspectives. Solana's a heartbreaker._

 _DISCLAIMER: I try my best to keep the lore as accurate as I can, but please excuse any errors and correct me if you spot any! However this is just fan fiction and not wiki._

-(-)-

 _Rihad, Hammerfell, 4E 182_

The stars are especially brilliant tonight. A slight breeze comes over my body, carrying sand and warmth with it. I close my eyes to protect them from the small grains, and I take a deep breath. My surroundings are reduced to the warmth I feel, from my father's hand holding my own and the air around me, the sand between my toes; the sounds I hear of the ships' bells and horns, the waves crashing in front of me; the salty, calming scent of the Abecean Sea. My favorite nights consisted of these moments, walking hand-in-hand with my father along the coast. Sometimes K'Aden and Talni would join us, but it was never as peaceful as it was when it was me and Pa. Ma never joined. _I hate the sand between my toes,_ she would say. She dislikes a lot of things.

My father is a sailor. He provides for the family by traveling with merchants across Tamriel, manning their ships and supplies. He travels quite often, only staying home a couple weeks at a time, to then be at sea for months. It is painful, but he never fails to bring back gifts from the faraway lands he visits.

However peaceful the silence is, I must break it. "I wish you could stay home."

Papa looks down at me, his dark brows furrowed. He then smirks, kneeling down so he is to my eye level. "Me too, love. You know I would trade my sea legs for you in a heartbeat."

I frown, not being able to comprehend why he can't just drop his job and stay with his family. "It's not fair." I wiggle my hand out of his and cross my arms. "Mama is no fun, and K'Aden and Talni put sand in my hair."

Pa sighs, and gives me a look of pity. He ponders to find the words to comfort me. "You know, my brothers bullied me, too. But you know how I got them to stop?" I shake my head. "I got big and strong, just like they were. And I taught them if they messed with me, they were going to have a taste of their own medicine."

"But they're so much bigger and older than me. And I'm a girl."

"My love, because you are a girl does not mean you can't be strong. You are a Redguard, remember? Why, look at your mother. She scares me and she is half my size!" I snicker, and cover my mouth. Pa grabs my hand and uncovers my smile. "And don't let them tell you anything about your teeth. You are prettiest when you smile." He gives me a kiss on my forehead, and my throat catches. I know I will miss our talks when he's gone.

A soft light of a lantern slowly creeps above the hill behind us, and I see Ma on top, hand on her hip. "There you two are. It is time for dinner." She waves her arm, beckoning us to come home. Papa sighs and stands up. I can hear his joints popping, and he slightly grimaces. I look up at him with concern, but he grabs my hand and we walk together. My curls bounce in front of my face as I scuttle to keep up, bouncing over small dunes of sand. Ma will not be happy we are bringing sand into her house, but Papa always helps sweep it out. She is always calmest when he's home.

—

The loud horn of a ship startles me awake. I gasp, realizing whose ship it was, and that I must have fallen asleep last night before I could say goodbye. My feet hit the floor and I run to the front door. I swing it open, the bright morning sun stinging my eyes. I strain for a moment until I see the dock down the road. "Papa!"

I hear my mother calling after me, but I am already gone. I push past people in the market, nearly knocking over a basket of fruits. The dock is so close, my short legs carrying me as fast as they can. As I get closer, I see a couple sailors begin to remove the plank connecting the moving ship and the dock.

"No! Papa!" I skirt to a halt at the edge of the boardwalk. " _Papa!"_ I wait a moment, and I feel tears well in my eyes. He can't hear me. He thinks I forgot to say goodbye.

I rub my eyes, and I begin to weep until I finally hear him call out to me. "M'Alakeh!" My head snaps up and I see my father, waving frantically at me behind the railing. "Goodbye, my darling!"

I wave back, jumping in place. "Bye, papa!" Tears still fall down my face but I am

no longer weeping. I continue waving, as does he, until we are no longer in sight of each other.

-(-)-

 _This was just a short introductory chapter. I got a little emotional writing this, I'm not sure why. Probably because it's 2 AM._

" _Wait, who's M'Alakeh?" you may ask. "I thought your Dragonborn was named Solana?" Who knows._

 _Oh, I do._

 _Anyways, I hope this was enough to get you interested. I have a lot planned for this story._

 _BTW, this fan fiction does follow the main quest line, but the other side quests as well, and continues after them. I plan to make this a long one._

 _Also, as I mentioned before, I love creating characters. I made somewhat of a concept art for Solana and if anyone would like to see what she looks like I may provide a link. I'm not sure yet. I'm an art major so I'm very critical of my own work_

 _See y'all tomorrow? Maybe?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Southern Skyrim, 4E 201_

 _Damn this weather._ The snow and wind howled, my visibility reduced to only a few yards in front of me. As if the rocky terrain weren't difficult enough, the storm I found myself in only made matters worse. _What I would do to be back on the beach…_ My thin cloak was not much protection, and I couldn't keep it wrapped around my body, as the wind persistently tried to rip it off. It had only been several days since I escaped that gods-forsaken bandit hideout. Those damn lowlives. I managed to sneak out during nightfall, grab a blade, slit only a few throats…

I had only been in this country for several months. The snow was a harsh contrast to what I knew back home. I only had a vague idea of where I was; I was nearing Cyrodiil, as I knew Skyrim's borders were defined by mountains and I was undoubtedly walking along the base of them. If I followed the stars west, I would end up in Hammerfell. Eventually.

A rumble in the distance interrupted my thoughts, and I looked around. Nothing. _Must be the wind…_ I continued on, fighting with my cloak and struggling to keep it wrapped around me. Then I heard it again, this time more distinguished. It was a sound like that of a beast, but no beast I had ever heard. _I hope I don't run into whatever creatures this land has to offer._ Suddenly, the bushes and trees across from me rustled, and I drew my blade. The blizzard obscured my view of whatever was coming towards me, but I wasted no time to swing.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" The startled cry of my attacker came too late, as I slashed his chain mail with one swift motion. " _Shit,_ what the hell, woman?"

I jumped back, squinting through the white wind and I made out the large figure of a Nord man. He was wearing a strange horned helmet, dressed in blue cuirass which I had cut through, and made a small incision in his bicep. I struggled to find a response. "Well, I- who the hell are _you_? And what do you expect when you jump out at a woman in the wild?"

The man looked me up and down. "I should be asking you the same. You are lucky you ran into me instead of my men, or you would be the one being attacked."

"I'm simply trying to find my way out of this gods-forsaken storm, now if you'll please-" Suddenly, he started walking towards me. " _Excuse me!"_

He placed his hand on his sheathed weapon, eyeing me. "How do I know you're not an Imperial scout, or a spy?"

"Oh, _Satakal_ , I don't have time for this. Do I look like a fucking soldier?" I rolled my eyes and sheathed my blade, crossing my arms. I had heard of Skyrim's ongoing civil war, but neither knew or cared little about it. I only knew the so-called Stormcloaks were rebelling against the Imperial Legion. I then realized who he was. "You must be a Stormcloak, huh? One of those rebels I've heard about?" I noticed the cold seemed to not affect this man so much, and I tried to hide my chattering teeth.

"Yes, I am." He smirked at me as if I were a child. "You must not be from around here. I can tell you are not used to this weather." _Obviously not._ I said nothing, and brought my cloak tighter around me. "Come, follow me." He released his grip on his sheathed weapon. "I will introduce you to my commander, and we can help you find your way." I had no interest in this country's politics, nonetheless their petty civil war. Becoming acquainted with their soldiers was certainly not my intentions, either, but I supposed it was obvious I needed the help. "I am Ralof, by the way."

"Solana." I simply nodded, refusing to show any interest in carrying a conversation with this man. The wind was starting to die a little, and he led me out of the trees to a small opening. The snow crunched under my feet, my cloak dragging behind me. We came upon a group of soldiers dressed in the same armor as Ralof, huddled around a campfire.

"We must leave soon, we cannot draw attention by staying idle. Where is my scout?" The booming voice came from a rather large Nord, cloaked in fur and steel armor. He stood in front of the men, arms crossed in front of his chest. He then noticed Ralof, his furrowed brows relaxing slightly. "Ah, there you are. Did you spot anything up ahead?"

Ralof raised a fist to his chest. "I spotted no enemy soldiers, my Jarl. I did, however, run into…" He stepped to the side, exposing me to his comrades.

The man drew his axe the second he saw me. "By the gods, Ralof! You bring a strange woman here? She could be a fucking Imperial spy!"

Rolling my eyes, I raised my palms forward, affirming I was no threat. "I can assure you I have no affiliation with the Imperials, _my Jarl._ " The foreign word rolled off my tongue with sarcasm. "Your scout here spotted me and made the same assumption. I am simply trying to find my way out of this awful wasteland."

"Watch your tongue, Redguard. This 'wasteland' is not your home, so I would be careful with who you are talking to." The Nord scoffed, as if my race were an insult. Little do any of these men know, I could slice all of them to pieces… if I had my own weapons. "I suppose you can stay with us for the night, as we are probably your safest option."

The arrogance in his voice was most irritating. "Oh, thank you, your holiness. I have no idea how me, a simple woman, would survive in the wilds if I had not found you." He eyed me, trying to decide if I was being surly with him.

Before he could respond, the hum of an arrow sliced the air, piercing the man's shoulder. At once, all of the soldiers surrounding the campfire stood, readying their weapons. "Imperials!" he cried, yanking the arrow out of his flesh. Immediately, the bushes surrounding us came alive, as camouflaged men charged forward, some jumping from trees.

I readied my blade, and I realized how vulnerable I was against these soldiers. Without my armor or my own weapons, in unfamiliar territory, I was quite literally not in my element. Swarms of Imperials surrounded us, a group of them focusing in on the fur-cloaked Nord. I heard crunchy footsteps coming behind me, and I swung around just in time to slice his lower throat in one swift motion. His body fell to the ground, blood staining and melting the snow.

I looked around frantically, surrounded by soldiers in red mail. "Grab all of them!" their general commanded. He looked directly at me. _Shit, shit, shit-_ I turned and ran, zipping left and right, knowing they undeniably had arrows pointed at me. I was normally fast, but not in this damned snow. An arrow landed next to my foot and I jumped, only to feel the sting of another in my calf. I fell to my side, holding my wound. My attacker approached me, and he looked back at his commander, who was following him.

"What should I do with her, Legate?"

An Imperial woman, armored to the teeth in clunky armor, stood in front of me. "Put her with the other soldiers. She's obviously a spy."

"I'm not a fucking spy!" I exclaimed. _Why does everyone assume I am the enemy?_ "I am not even from Skyrim, I don't know these men!"

"Shut your mouth, Stormcloak," she hissed, and turned away.

The soldier that shot me walked forward, unwrapping ropes for my hands. I spat at him, kicking snow in his face. I attempted an escape, but my wound was deeper than I thought, and I fell to my knees. Before I could rise again, the blunt end of a sword collided against my skull, and everything went black.

 _The tundra below was a blur, dark wings soaring through the air like an arrow. This land had not changed much during his absence._ Foolish, ignorant mortals. _A deep growl escaped his throat, and a flicker of a flame arose with it._ I can never be rid of. _During his journey through time, he planned his revenge. He grew strength and patience, wisdom and strategy._ Soon, my _zeymahs_ and _briinahs_ will rise with me.

 _But first… the_ Dovahkiin. _They have returned to Skyrim. He was sure of it, he could feel their presence. And he was oh, so close. This time, he will not fail. Yellow eyes focused on the small settlement ahead, and he knew his_ draal, _his prey,_ _waited there. A menacing snarl turned into a_ Thu'um, _shaking the land before him. It was time._

I woke up with a start, cold sweat dripping down my face. _What was that dream…_ I am not prone to night terrors. It was almost as if I could feel the quake within my dream. Recalling my vision, that voice… it sent chills down my spine.

"Ah, you're awake," a familiar voice said. I looked up and Ralof was across from me, smiling timidly. "I was wondering if you were going to wake up."

The throbbing at the back of my skull was intense, and as I raised my hand to rub it, I realized my hands were bound. _Lovely._ I looked around at my surroundings. All of our hands were bound- me, Ralof, the Nord jarl, and some other man in rags- on the back of a carriage, driven by an Imperial soldier. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"I am not sure. But I know that Sovngarde awaits," the soldier answered.

"I don't believe in Sovngarde. What do you mean?" The jarl next to me scoffed, and I turned to him to retort, until I noticed his mouth was covered with a cloth. _Wait, why would they cover his mouth?_ I had heard stories about the Jarl of Windhelm, how he murdered the High King of Skyrim, supposedly "with his voice." It didn't make sense, but if it's true… "You're Ulfric Stormcloak."

"Are you thick, woman?" Ralof snapped, but recoiled as I shot him a deadly glare. "My apologies. I forget you are not from this country."

"Wait, so you're not a soldier either?" the Nord next to Ralof asked. "Then why are you here? We shouldn't be here!"

I looked at the man, eyeing him up and down. "And who are _you?"_

The man's face flushed. "Lokir. Lokir of Rorikstead." As if stating his settlement is supposed to impress me.

"Well, Lokir of Rorikstead, it is obvious these soldiers could give a rat's ass about who we are. Like me, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time." I shot Ralof a sideways glance. "I wonder if the Stormcloaks got you dragged into their mess, as well."

"I'm surprised your smart tongue hasn't gotten you killed by now, Redguard. Oh, that's right. It already is," Ralof quipped. If my hands were not bound, I would wring his throat.

Before I was able to react, the wagon driver had had enough. "Be quiet back there! Or you'll meet your ends before the chopping block."

At this, Lokir had visibly started shaking. Coward. "I can't believe this." Frankly, neither could I. Of all the things I have survived in my life, I always suspected my death would be a lot more exciting than a chopping block.

Ahead of us, I heard heavy wooden gates scrape against the stone road. "Make way for the soldiers!" We entered the small settlement, passing houses and shops. Families stood outside of their homes, watching us. "Go back inside, cub," a father said. _No, no,_ I thought, _let the kids watch._

The wagon continued, coming to a halt at the end of the stone wall. The rebels on the wagon next to us began to exit, and the soldiers commanded us to follow suit. In a single file, we lined up before the legate and a commander. The commander held a parchment and feather, counting each of us. Lokir stood in front, then Ralof, Ulrfric, and lastly me. When he counted me, his brow furrowed, but said nothing.

"Lokir of Riverwood," he called.

The cowardly man stepped forward. "I'm not with the Stormcloaks! You can't do this!" He charged forward, only to be stopped by an arrow to his skull.

"Anyone else want to be bold?" the commander asked. He sighed and continued. "Ralof… of Riverwood." His hesitation puzzled me, and the two men stared each other down. The commander tried to hide his sorrowful expression, but it was evident he wanted to say something. Ralof simply shook his head and left to stand with the other rebels. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The Nord grunted and stepped forward. Finally, his gaze fell on me. "You… who are you?"

I rolled my eyes. That seemed to be the question of the day. "Depends. Who's asking?"

"Enough with the jokes, spy," the legate said as she approached us. "What's the problem, Hadvar?"

"She's not on the list, ma'am. What should we do?" The commander, Hadvar, showed her the parchment.

She grabbed the list and examined it before shoving it back into the man's hands. "Forget the list. She goes to the block."

"I'd be honored," I mumbled. Silently, I walked to stand next to Ralof and the jarl. There was a priestess, I presumed to "bless our souls to Sovngarde." If I even believed in Sovngarde, my soul would not even be accepted inside, as I am not a Nord. I look around, and my eyes fall on the fallen Lokir. Maybe he wasn't such a coward. He was determined to not meet his fate at the chopping block, however irritating he may have been. Then, I came to a realization. _Why am I so unbothered?_ In every near-death situation, I have found a way to escape. Am I accepting my fate? This surely cannot be my fate. After everything I've been through… My mind escaped to my father, and the last thing he had said to me-

Suddenly, the ground shook beneath me. I lost my balance, falling to my knee. I look up, and my voice catches in my throat. Before me, on top of a tower is what I can only assume to be some sort of demon, or god. And it is looking directly at me. The creature, with black scales, piercing yellow eyes, horned spine and wings, opens its jaws and lets out an ear shattering roar. My hearing is lost for a moment, the ground shakes once more, but even more violently than before.

" _Dovahkiin!"_

 _That voice… from my dream…_

In an instant, another roar pierces my ears, and I am thrown off my feet, smacking into the stone wall. Once again, everything is black.

-(-)-

 _I really need to stop staying up so late writing this._

 _These first few chapters are really just getting the story started, so if it seems to be going slow, just wait! It'll catch up soon, I promise._

 _Please excuse any lore or grammar errors. I am a tired college student._

 _Until next time~_


End file.
